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The Children of the Shoe 


By 

E. M. JAMESON 


Illustrated by Tom Browne, R. L 



Ctncmnatt : 

JENNINGS AND GRAHAM 

jNcfo : f 

EATON AND MAINS 



COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY 

Jennings and Graham 




©CI,A354ae9 



TO 

MY littlp: friend 

^^btl Jtitnccnt 



Contents 

Page 

The Prince Who Never Smiled, - 7 

The Imitation Princess, - - 33 

The Golden Treasure, - - - 66 
The King’s Bodyguard, - - 94 

The Winter Palace, - - - - 127 



The Children of the Shoe 


Chapter I 

The Prince Who Never Smiled 

Old Woman was having her an- 
£ " j nual house-cleaning. 

It was an unpleasant time for 
everybody, as her temper, sharp at the best, 
was past bearing at this period of the year. 
And there was really some excuse for her, 
poor thing, for the children grew more nu- 
merous year by year, until the Shoe, capa- 
cious as it was, refused to hold any more. 

‘Some of you must go into the world to 
earn your own living,” said the Old Woman, 
crossly; and at her words a thrill of excite- 
ment ran through the children. 

7 


The Children of the Shoe 


The great brown Shoe stood among beau- 
tiful surroundings in the heart of the country, 
away from towns and houses, in the midst of 
green, rolling meadows where rabbits frisked 
in and out of their holes, and bright-eyed 
squirrels darted among the tree-trunks. 

And at last the time had really come when 
some of them were to set forth in quest of a 
living. 

The Old Woman marshaled them in line 
with her birch broom. She was tired, and 
cross, and dusty, and her large frilled cap 
was all awry; but a tear rolled down her 
cheek, for, despite her sharp tongue, she loved 
the children, and did not wish to spare one 
of them. 

“There’s no help for it,” she said, in a 
heart-broken voice; “it’s what I’ve been 
dreading all along; some of you must go, 
children.” 


8 


The Prince Who Never Smiled 


At the sight of her tears the children 
ceased to fidget, feeling that this was really 
the most remarkable day in their lives. 

The Old Woman glanced up and down the 
long line of eager faces. 

‘‘Rollo must go,” she said; “he takes up 
enough room for two.” 

Rollo, a tall, ungainly boy, rubbed his 
head and looked foolish. 

“I can’t do anything,” he said; “they’ll 
laugh at me in the world.” 

For, Rollo was slow and awkward, and the 
other children laughed at him, but all acknowl- 
edged that he was good-natured. 

“Everybody’s good for something,” said 
the Old Woman, with decision, “and even if 
you only dig potatoes, you’ll have to earn 
your living. So that’s settled; stand out of 
the ranks.” 

Then Ivor stood out, his brown eyes very 

9 


The Children of the Shoe 


eager. ‘'I want to go into the world,” he 
said. “I’d like to be famous one day, and I 
can’t if I stay in the Shoe!” 

Little Merle clasped her hands appeal- 
ingly. “If Ivor goes, I should like to go,” 
she said; “the Shoe will be so very lonely 
without him.” 

The Old Woman stroked Merle’s golden 
hair, and her face was sad as she said, “Go, 
if you must, dear; even the birds in the nest 
grow restless when their wings strengthen — 
go, if you must.” 

“If Merle goes, I do n’t see why I 
should n’t go.” Aggravina tossed her head 
disdainfully as she spoke. “I’m tired of the 
Shoe; I want to go into the world to enjoy 
myself. Why should n’t I have sparkling 
jewels, and be a fine lady?” 

Aggravina was very proud and disagree- 
able. She had never been known to do a 
10 


The Prince IVho Never Smiled 


kind act, and the babies all cried at the mere 
sight of her. 

She tossed her head again. “1 hate the 
Shoe!” she said. 

The face of the Old Woman grew very 
sorrowful. 

“Perhaps in years to come you may be 
glad to return to the Shoe, Aggravina. Go, 
if you must; the world will tame your proud 
spirit, and make your manners humbler.” 

But Aggravina only tossed her long, dark 
hair from her face. She thought she knew 
better than her elders. 

Then a little piping voice near the Old 
Woman’s elbow said, “Oh, please. I’d like to 
go, too.” 

There was an exclamation from every- 
body. 

“No, no, darling,” said the Old Woman, 
pressing Gyp to her side as she spoke; “the 

11 


The Children of the Shoe 


rough world is not for such as you — home is 
best.” 

But little Gyp only shook his golden curls 
from his eyes and laughed merrily, hobbling 
away on his little crutches, for he was a 
cripple. 

Then he hobbled back again, and slipped 
his fingers into the Old Woman’s hand coax- 
ingly. His eyes were like bits of the blue 
sky, bright and unshadowed as the sea on a 
summer day. 

He was very tiny, with a small, white, 
peaked face that, despite his brave spirit, 
never quite lost its look of patient endurance. 
By reason of his helplessness he was the most 
dearly loved of all the children, and tears 
filled the eyes of the Old Woman as she 
looked at him. 

”We will take care of him,” said Rollo 
and Ivor and Merle. 


12 


The Prince Who Never Smiled 


‘‘Children,” said the Old Woman, in a 
very grave voice, “you do not understand. 
You must all take different paths into that 
world where Providence watches over little 
children.” 

The faces of the children grew serious. 
They had expected to journey through the 
world together. To go alone, to have no Shoe 
to shelter in at night — this thought made 
them pause for a moment. 

“Those who like may stay,” said the Old 
Woman. 

“We will go,” said the children in one 
breath. 

And it was settled that Ivor, the one who 
of them all was most eager to go, should start 
on his travels first. 

The Old Woman gave him an alpenstock 
to help him up and down the rugged sides of 
the mountains, a little satchel containing 
13 


The Children of the Shoe 


food, and a pair of shoes’ to sling across his 
shoulders, in case the shoes he wore should 
wear into holes. “For the road up the moun- 
tain is steep and rugged,” she said, “and 
you may be glad to have a new pair before 
you reach the world.” 

Then, last of all, sne gave him a silver 
coin. 

“Make the best use of it,” she said; “do 
not spend it unless your need is very urgent. 
It is a lucky coin — take care of it.” 

It was at dawn of day that Ivor started 
on his travels, just as a faint rosy light began 
to tip the gleaming snow-caps of the moun- 
tains, and the birds in the nests to twitter a 
greeting to the newly-awakened day. 

The children watched him mounting the 
road higher and higher, until he reached the 
summit of the mountain and stood outlined 
against the clear, rose-colored sky. 

14 


Last of all she gave him 
a silver con* 




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The Prince Who Never Smiled 


The next moment he was lost from view. 
The mountain side was very steep and 
rugged. 

Ivor’s heart sank as he looked down. But 
beneath lay a pleasant green valley, and 
from a distance came the faint tinkle of bells. 
So he took courage, and went on his way 
valiantly. 

Presently the sound of the bells came 
nearer, first from one direction and then from 
another, until the air was full of their chime; 
and then a number of goats appeared in view. 
And, following them, came a little goatherd, 
in a faded red skirt, her feet brown and bare, 
her hair in a tangle round her face and her 
brown, astonished eyes, for she had not ex- 
pected to see Ivor. 

“Have you lost your way?” she asked. 

Ivor missed the other children, so he was 
very glad to see the little goatherd after such 
^ 17 


The Children of the Shoe 


a solitary day, and her clear, brown eyes 
looked very friendly. 

“I am going into the world to seek my 
fortune,” he said; ‘‘perhaps you can direct 
me. I suppose it lies yonder?” 

He pointed to the valley that lay below, 
with red peaked roofs showing between the 
tree-tops. 

“The world is a great place,” said the 
little goatherd, shading her eyes with her hand 
as she, too, looked into the sunny valley. “I 
have heard my grandmother say this is only 
a little bit of it. There’s a great town be- 
yond the valley, where the King lives, and 
on a very clear day you can see the towers 
of his palace from the top of the moun- 
tain.” 

“Oh! I should like to see them,’’ ex- 
claimed Ivor, eagerly; “perhaps we could 
to-day.” 


18 


The Prince Who Never Smiled 


But it is to be seen from a place so steep 
that only my goats and I can reach it,” said 
the little goatherd. “My grandmother told 
me she saw it once when she was tending the 
goats.” 

“What did she see?” asked Ivor, and so 
eager was he that he would have lost his foot- 
hold had not the little goatherd pulled him 
away from the edge of the rocks. Then she 
told him of the turrets of the palace, towers 
of gleaming ivory with slender points of gold 
tapering to the sky, and of the rare and price- 
less treasures they contained. 

“The King must be very happy,” said 
Ivor. 

“But he is not, indeed,” said the little 
goatherd. “My grandmother told me the 
other day that he is the saddest man in all 
his kingdom — so she has heard.” 

“Why is he so sad?” asked Ivor, curiously. 
19 


The Children of the Shoe 


“He has only one child,” replied the little 
goatherd, “and he has never been known to 
smile. They have tried everything imagina- 
ble, my grandmother says, but without avail. 
And now the doctors say that unless he can 
be made to smile, and to take an interest in 
things around him, the little Prince will die. 
The King had offered rich rewards to the one 
who will win a smile from the heir to the 
throne, and numbers have tried, but not one 
has succeeded. Then the King gets so dis- 
appointed and angry that he shuts them up 
in the dungeons under the palace; and now 
nobody tries, for fear of meeting with such a 
fate.” 

“I should like to go to that part of the 
world,” said Ivor; “there must be beautiful 
things to see, and work to be found.” 

So he presently said good-bye to the little 
goatherd, and, following her directions, found 
20 


The Prince Who Never Smiled 


himself, after many hours of toilsome walking, 
near the entrance to the town. 

It was guarded by a great gate of ivory 
and gold, with turrets on either side in which 
stood sentries armed with long spears, while 
at the gateway stood a soldier of the King’s 
guard in gilt armor. So tall was this warrior, 
that Ivor had to crane his neck to look up at 
him. 

“I am come to make the Prince smile,” 
said Ivor, boldly, when he was asked his 
business, for he had formed many plans on 
his way. 

The tall guardsman roared with laughter 
at the idea, and all the soldiers round about 
joined in the mirth, until Ivor wished he 
could hide from sight. 

Even as they laughed, a chariot drawn by 
four beautiful gray horses whirled rapidly up 
to the gateway. There was silence but for 
21 


The Children of the Shoe 


the ringing of weapons as the sentinels pre- 
sented arms. 

‘The King!” Ivor heard some one say in 
a low voice, and then he took his little cap 
from his head and bowed low, not daring to 
look up. 

Now, when the King heard laughter it 
made him very sad, for he thought of his little 
son at home who never smiled. 

‘What means this noise?” he asked, and 
his voice was so stern that Ivor’s knees trem- 
bled with fear. Then he heard the captain of 
the guard humbly explain the cause of the 
mirth — a little boy had the audacity to say 
that he had come to make His Royal Highness 
smile. 

But the King did not smile. He leaned 
out of his chariot, and Ivor, looking up tim- 
idly, saw that the King was beckoning to him 
to draw nearer. Cap in hand, he obeyed. 

22 









The Prince IVho Never Smiled 


The King’s eyes were kind, if his face was 
stern. “Do you know the penalty of failure, 
boy?” he asked. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Ivor, his clear, 
brown eyes meeting the King’s without shrink- 
ing. 

The King drew a long breath. He sup- 
posed it would mean another disappointment; 
but he liked Ivor’s face, and had only men- 
tioned the penalty to try his courage, for he 
did not put children in the dungeons — in- 
deed, no child had offered hitherto to make 
the Prince smile. Only that morning the 
great physicians had told him that in a day 
or two the heir to the throne must die, so 
thin and weak had he become, and so listless 
amidst his beautiful surroundings. 

“Get in beside me,” he said to Ivor, and 
as they drove rapidly on he questioned the 
boy as to how he was going to make the 
25 


The Children of the Shoe 


Prince smile. Ivor shamefacedly drew from 
his pocket a horn-handled knife with one little 
shabby, worn blade, and from the other pocket 
a small block of wood. 

^‘What has that rubbish to do with the 
Prince?” asked the King, harshly, feeling 
more disappointed than he cared to own. 

Tears came into Ivor’s eyes. 

^‘I can carve funny things,” he said; 
‘‘and. Your Majesty, they used to make the 
babies in the Shoe laugh, so as I came down 
the mountain I thought that the Prince 
might smile too.” 

The King sighed impatiently. “You can 
try,” he said; and the next moment they 
drew up at the palace entrance. 

The King hurried Ivor through the rows 
of amazed courtiers and retainers, up the 
marble staircase, and into the great nursery 
where the Prince lay, surrounded by a hun- 
26 


The Prince IVho Never Smiled 


dred beautiful objects, in which he took no 
interest. 

“Leave us,” said the King; and the at- 
tendants withdrew, one by one, until none 
remained save the King, Ivor, and the thin, 
pale-faced little Prince on his pile of silken 
cushions. 

The King bent down and very tenderly 
took his little son in his arms; but though the 
Prince stretched out his wasted hands, he 
never smiled. Then the King sat down with 
the Prince on his knee, and Ivor began to 
chip the block of wood with the shabby little 
knife-blade. 

As the bits of wood flew round, the little 
Prince tried to catch them, and the King 
watched the pale face intently. Faster and 
faster flew the chips, and by degrees a funny 
little gnome’s face grew out of the block of 
wood, a fantastic little creature with startling 
27 


The Children of the Shoe 


eyes and grotesque expression. Ivor was very 
clever with his fingers. Even the King could 
not repress a smile; but though the little 
Prince drew nearer, and his face grew inter- 
ested, he did not smile. But the King grew 
more hopeful. 

‘‘Carve something funnier still, boy,” he 
commanded. 

And Ivor, eager too, chipped away until 
the knife-blade glinted like lightning, and the 
bits of wood flew in a shower over the little 
Prince’s clothes and hair. He stirred in his 
father’s arms; and then, under Ivor’s clever 
fingers, the block of wood took the shape of a 
dog’s head with sharp ears and pointed nose. 
The little Prince pointed with his finger, and 
a smile broke over his face. 

“It’s Max,” he said, and he laughed out- 
right, for Max was his own dog, and Ivor’s 
dog resembled it. And at that moment Max 
28 



A. 



The Prince Who Never Smiled. 


ran into the room, and the little Prince 
laughed again, and patted his soft, fawn-col- 
ored head. 

The news spread like wild-fire through the 
palace. The physicians hastened into the 
Royal nursery, and the little Prince smiled 
at them. Into every highway and byway the 
news spread, until the palace was besieged by 
those who wished to see the little boy who 
had saved the heir to the throne. 

And the King appeared at the window of 
the great banqueting hall with the heir-ap- 
parent in his arms and Ivor at his side. And 
all the populace shouted themselves hoarse, 
the bells rang, and the citizens feasted, while 
hour by hour the little Prince grew stronger. 
His favorite toy was the carving of the dog’s 
head; and in after years it was shown among 
the town’s chief curiosities as the thing that 
saved a king’s life. 


31 


The Children of the Shoe 


The prisoners, of course, were liberated, 
and so well rewarded that they forgot their 
misery in the dungeons. 

Ivor’s shabby little knife, the founder of 
his fortunes, was put into the great museum, 
and people came from miles around to see it, 
and the boy who used it to such good purpose. 

Ivor was a sensible lad, whose prosperity 
did not spoil him. In later years he became 
one of the greatest sculptors of the age, and 
his children, and the King’s children, never 
tired of hearing the story of the Prince who 
never smiled. 


32 


Chapter II 

The Imitation Princess 



,HEN Aggravina left the Shoe, no 
one sorrowed for her. 


^ ^ Indeed, so disagreeable was she 
that everybody, down to the babies, rejoiced 
to see her disappearing over the crest of the 
mountain. 

And Aggravina, on her side, did not feel 
any grief. She did not shed a tear. She 
thought the world must be a place full of 
enjoyment, where she could do exactly as she 
liked — a place where fine clothes and jewels 
were to be had for the asking — which shows 
how very little she knew about the world. 

She was in such a hurry to be gone that 


The Children of the Shoe 


she forgot to take with her the little satchel 
of food which had been placed ready for her. 

She would have no new shoes. By the 
time her own were worn out, she would have 
others far finer; and, as for an alpenstock, 
she had never needed a stick to help her along 1 

So she took her foolish, headstrong way 
up the mountain, and long before she reached 
the top she wished for the alpenstock. 

The path was strewn with sharp stones 
which cut her feet, and made her hobble along 
like a very aged woman. 

There were no trees along that side of the 
mountain, so that no shade of any kind hid 
the fierce rays of the sun from her. 

As the day wore on she sought in vain for 
shelter. She was hungry now and miserable, 
and in a very, very bad temper. She even 
wished to return to the Shoe; but when she 
tried to retrace her steps she found, after 
34 


The Imitation Princess 


wandering up and down the mountain side, 
that she had lost her way and could not re- 
turn, even though she wished to do so. 

Her throat was parched, there was no 
stream of water to be seen, and no berries 
grew upon the stunted bushes that straggled 
in and out of the rocky sides of the mountain. 

Aggravina sat down and cried bitterly. 

A movement in the undergrowth startled 
her, and she raised her head. An animal like 
a hyena was slinking past, snarling and show- 
ing his teeth. Aggravina did the most foolish 
thing possible. With a loud cry she sprang 
to her feet and ran on, on, on, with the hyena 
after her. She could hear the soft pad of his 
feet coming closer and closer. 

On she stumbled, on and on, half falling, 
then rising again, until she could feel the 
animal’s hot breath upon her neck. 

How she longed for the safety of the Shoe ! 

35 


The Children of the Shoe 


How willingly would she have rocked the 
most troublesome baby for hours, could she 
only have reached home safely! 

There was a dark fissure in the side of the 
rock, and into it she ran, and fell in a breath- 
less heap on the floor of the cave. It was 
illumined by a faint red light, and she heard 
a voice say, ‘'Oh, my poor head! What is 
that noise?” 

And Aggravina was so delighted to hear 
a voice once again that she rose and flung 
herself upon the speaker without pausing a 
moment to think. 

“Save me! Save me!” she cried. 

“What a fuss, to be sure!” said the old 
woman, who was really a witch. “It’s only 
Binkie’s fun, isn’t it, Binkie?” And, to 
Aggravina’s terror, the hyena slunk across 
the floor of the cave, showing his teeth and 
36 


The Imitation Princess 


red tongue in a terrible kind of smile. Ag- 
gravina clung still closer. 

^‘You’ll choke me,” said the old woman. 
^‘Go away. Oh, my poor head!” 

She shook herself free from Aggravina, 
and when the latter saw her she wondered 
how she could ever have found courage to 
put her arms round such a terrible creature. 
She was very dirty and ragged, with eyes as 
fierce and red as Binkie’s. 

The old woman patted the hyena lov- 
ingly. 

“Binkie’s my pet,” she said; “and it’s 
not often he is able to hunt little girls on the 
mountain, is it, Binkie?” And the hyena 
gave a low snarl in reply. 

They were such a terrible pair that Ag- 
gravina heartily wished herself miles away 
from them, and began to form plans for escape. 
37 


The Children of the Shoe 


But every time she stirred, Binkie pointed 
his ears, and his red, hungry eyes never left 
her face. After a time she grew accustomed 
to the dim light and could distinguish objects 
around her. A faint, red glow came from 
the middle of the cave, where a fire burned. 
The smoke rose in great wreaths to the roof 
and then, unable to find an exit, descended 
again and went out at the opening to the 
cave. 

It caused Aggravina’s eyes to smart and 
irritated her throat, making her cough. Over 
the embers hung a round iron pot, out of 
which came a smell of cooking which made 
Aggravina feel very hungry, indeed. 

The old witch went up to it and stirred it 
round and round with a stick, then peered 
into it, and shook her head. 

^‘Too thin,” she said, half aloud, ‘Tar too 
thin. Must get a few more before supper 
38 


The Imitation Princess 


time. Are you hungry?” she asked, turning 
suddenly to Aggravina. 

“Yes, please,” replied Aggravina, who was 
too frightened to be as rude as usual. “Per- 
haps you’ll let me have some supper with 
you?” 

“It’s folks’ business to wait till they’re 
asked,” replied the witch; “or so I’ve been 
told. Shall we give her some supper, 
Binkie?” 

The hyena showed his teeth in a snarl, 
looking as if he would have liked Aggravina 
for his supper. 

“Before you have your supper you must 
earn it,” said the witch, taking a great thorn 
stick from a distant corner and placing on 
her head a huge hat, like a mushroom, which 
made her look even worse than before. “We 
have to find ours, and I do n’t see why you 
should get yours for nothing. Binkie knows 
39 


The Children of the Shoe 


where to find plenty of fine fat frogs. Do n’t 
you, Binkie?” 

Aggravina’s heart sank. She did not at 
first comprehend that the supper dish was to 
consist of stewed frogs; but such was the 
case. 

She reluctantly followed the witch down 
the side of the mountain, guided by the light 
of a big lantern, carried by her hostess. 

Whenever Binkie stopped at a large stone 
and turned it over cleverly with his nose and 
paws, there were sure to be three or four fat 
frogs, which the old woman put into a cov- 
ered-basket on her arm. 

“Run after them and catch them!” she 
shouted to Aggravina. “If you don’t work 
you shan’t have a morsel of supper.” 

But Aggravina let the creatures hop away 
— she did not want a supper of stewed frogs. 
Her knees shook with fear as she followed 
40 



V 




The Imitation Princess 


the witch and her strange companion; her 
one thought was how to escape them. 

The witch gathered a few herbs, and they 
retraced their steps to the cave. 

Aggravina was terrified lest they should 
force her to eat some of the frog stew, and 
just as the entrance to the cave came in sight, 
and the hyena had run on, anxious for his 
supper, she turned and flew along the path 
and down the steep side of the mountain. 
On she went, careless of danger, only anxious 
to be rid of her terrible friends. Then she 
realized that Binkie was following her. 

The pad, pad of his feet sounded dis- 
tinctly, and she knew that there was no hope 
of escape. 

He was close behind her; she gave one 
frightened leap forward and felt herself fall- 
ing, falling, falling into space, until her brain 
whirled dizzily and she remembered no more. 
43 


The Children of the Shoe 


It was daylight when she awoke. She 
could not at first remember where she was, or 
what had happened. It was dawn, and the 
birds were singing in chorus, while all the 
young birds were learning to fly. 

She was lying upon a strip of soft green 
turf, and beside her flowed a stream in which 
the creamy cups of water-lilies unfolded in 
the sun. 

As she raised herself on one elbow, she saw 
the mountain looming far above her — and 
then she remembered what had happened. 
Even to return to the Shoe she dare not face 
the terrors of the witch’s cave. 

She was faint with hunger. The fragrance 
of wild strawberries scented the air. Upon 
the bushes beside her she saw some beautiful 
red berries. She gathered some, and they 
were quite unlike anything she had ever 
tasted before. 


44 


The Imitation Princess 


Hardly had she eaten half a dozen than 
she began to feel drowsy. Little by little her 
eyes closed. She tried to rouse herself; then 
her head fell back, and she was fast asleep, 
with her head pillowed on her arm. 

As she slept she dreamed. She thought 
some one came to her and asked her if she 
would like to be a princess for a day, and 
wear fine clothes and dazzling jewels. 

In her dream she assented eagerly, for 
this was what she had hoped for when she 
left the Shoe. 

Then a voice said, “Wake up, wake up, 
and you shall be a princess for one whole 
day ! ” 

And the next moment Aggravina rubbed 
her sleepy eyes, and, when she opened them, 
she thought she must still be dreaming. 

Seated on a tree-trunk near her was a real 
Princess. There could be no doubt about 
45 


The Children of the Shoe 


her reality, for none but princesses wore such 
dazzling apparel. 

This Princess was no older than Aggra- 
vina; but, oh! the beauty of her dress! 

It was of palest blue gauze, painted with 
sprays of blush roses. Jewels sparkled in her 
hair, on her frock, and even in the buckles 
of her dainty shoes. But they were only like 
dewdrops shining in the dawn ere the sun 
disperses them. 

The brown eyes of the Princess sparkled, 
too. 

She approached Aggravina, tripping dain- 
tily across the grass in her high-heeled shoes, 
her finger on her lip to command silence. 
There was a naughty, mischievous air about 
her that made Aggravina wonder, and she 
wore a little head-dress of gold filigree and 
diamonds from which Aggravina could not 
46 




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The Imitation Princess 


remove her eyes. The Princess looked too 
dainty for anything but a glass case. 

“Little girl,” she said in a whisper, “would 
you like to be a princess?” 

Aggravina nodded. She had no idea how 
princesses should be treated, but she rose 
slowly to her feet. 

“You would?" asked the Princess, eagerly, 
'^really and truly? Oh, you do n’t know how 
very dull it is, or you would n’t say yes! 
Princesses can’t do anything they like — they 
always have to be careful of their clothes, 
they’re never left alone, and they never have 
half enough children to play with, because 
there are so few grand enough.” She looked 
at Aggravina disbelievingly ; but the latter 
nodded again. She thought it must be the 
finest thing in the world to be a princess. 

“Yes, I’d like to be a real princess,” she 

4 49 


The Children of the Shoe 


said, slowly, ‘‘and wear fine clothes, and drive 
in a coach and six.” 

The little Princess clapped her hands. 

“You shall change places with me,” she 
said, gleefully; “only” — as a thought oc- 
curred to her — “you can’t be a real princess, 
after all — you can only be an imitation 
one.” 

And she began to unfasten her filigree 
head-dress. 

“I got so tired of being a princess,” she 
said, “that I ran away. You must be very 
quick indeed, for they will all be sent in 
search of me, and when they come you must 
be the Princess, and I’ll be you — ^just an 
ordinary girl who can play with anybody all 
day.” 

Then, with deft fingers, she arranged Ag- 
gravina’s hair under the filigree head-dress, 
and they exchanged raiment. 

50 


The Imitation Princess 


The Princess broke into peals of laughter 
when they stood facing one another, and she 
looked down at Aggravina’s shabby shoes on 
her own feet. 

^‘What fun it is!” she exclaimed. ‘‘I am 
so glad I ran away. You look very like a real 
princess, and they are all too stupid to 
know the difference.” 

Fine feathers make fine birds; the like- 
ness between the two children was remark- 
able. 

Aggravina began to feel very proud and 
haughty in her fine clothes, and thought, in- 
deed, that she was far more dignified than 
the real Princess, and that the position was 
likely to suit her marvelously well. 

‘‘I’ll be your lady-in-waiting,” said the 
real Princess, with another peal of laughter. 
“You must put this veil a little bit over your 
face, so.” 


51 


The Children of the Shoe 


She drew out a gauzy film of lace and put 
it over Aggravina’s head. 

“Now they may come as soon as ever 
they like,” she said, capering about in her 
excitement. “Oh, how clumsy your shoes do 
feel! How can you wear them always?” 

To Aggravina her own shabby shoes were 
far more comfortable than the high-heeled 
shoes of the Princess, but she would not have 
acknowledged the fact for the world. She 
walked to and fro, waving a fan with great 
dignity. 

The Princess laughed merrily as she 
watched her. Aggravina put on many more 
airs than the real Princess, whose attendants 
at Court had always grieved for her lack of 
dignity. 

At that moment a sound of bugles was 
borne upon the breeze, accompanied by the 
52 


The Imitation Princess 


galloping of steeds and the jingle of accouter- 
ments. 

The real Princess peeped from behind the 
bushes and put her finger to her lip. 

‘‘Here they are,” she whispered, “all the 
lords-in-waiting, looking so cross, followed by 
the King’s guard.” 

On they came, their scarlet and gold flash- 
ing in the sun, the horses champing their bits 
impatiently, the huntsmen blowing upon their 
horns. 

And the naughty Princess stood half hid- 
den by the bushes, and laughed to see the 
fuss that was made. 

As the foremost rider caught sight of Ag- 
gravina he reined in his horse and, removing 
his plumed cap, bowed low. 

“Oh, Your Highness, what a search we 
have had for you,” he said; “His Majesty, 
53 


The Children of the Shoe 


your grandfather, is greatly distressed at your 
absence.” 

He beckoned to a serving-man, who rode 
forward, leading the most beautiful little white 
horse, with blue and silver trappings. 

Aggravina had never mounted a horse in 
her life, and when she did so now she mounted 
with such clumsiness that the real Princess 
could hardly restrain her laughter. 

The gentleman-in-waiting caught sight of 
her and waved her back. 

‘'Go away, little girl,” he said, never 
dreaming that he was speaking to the heiress- 
apparent; “go away.” 

“But the Princess says I am to be her 
lady-in-waiting,” says the real Princess. 

At that a roar of laughter went up from 
the crowd. 

Aggravina thought the Princess would be 
useful in telling her what to do at the palace, 
54 






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The Imitation Princess 


so she commanded that the beggar girl should 
be allowed to go to the Court. 

The real Princess had to spring up behind 
one of the grooms and hold on to his leather 
belt. 

And in this fashion they returned to the 
palace. The King was very old. He tottered 
out to receive his granddaughter, and led her 
into the throne-room. No one had found out 
the mistake so far, but at the foot of the 
throne, on a scarlet velvet cushion, lay the 
Princess Rosabella’s little dog. 

He rose as Aggravina approached, and ut- 
tered a low growl. He knew better. Then 
he ran down the room at full speed, straight 
to where the real Princess stood peeping in at 
the door, and caressed her lovingly. 

And then she was ordered to go to the 
kitchen to wash dishes all the day. 

And in the palace everybody made much 

57 


The Children of the Shoe 


of the imitation Princess. Aggravina found 
it very pleasant for a time. She grew haughty, 
treating those around her contemptuously, 
until they said the Princess Rosabella was 
greatly changed, and that her added dignity 
was not such a gain, after all. And below 
stairs the foolish little real Princess grew red- 
eyed with shedding many tears, and repented 
greatly of her folly. 

One day the real Princess escaped from 
the kitchens and ran forward and knelt at 
the old King’s feet. She loved her grand- 
father very dearly. 

‘‘Your Majesty,” she said, stretching out 
her hands appealingly, “ I am the real Princess 
Rosabella; this is only an imitation one.” 
Aggravina looked at her as if she had never 
seen her before. 

“She is mad. Your Majesty, and should be 
locked up,” she said. 


58 


The Imitation Princess 


And the poor little real Princess was taken 
away and locked up as if she were mad. 

But the King felt troubled. 

He sent a mounted messenger into the ad- 
joining kingdom with a letter for his youngest 
daughter, who had married the King, and who 
was very fond of her niece, the Princess Rosa- 
bella. 

She was a very clever Queen, and she has- 
tened to ride back with the messenger. 

Ht is indeed a strange story,” she said. 
‘‘I will see Rosabella and question her.” 

Now the Queen loved music, and the 
Princess Rosabella could sing like a lark and 
play the guitar most beautifully. She had 
always been delighted to play to her aunt. 
But when asked to do so this evening Aggra- 
vina refused, and, of course, for the very good 
reason that she could not sing. 

The Queen grew angry, and, as a thought 

59 


The Children of the Shoe 


struck her, she looked at Aggravina search- 
ingly, and then turned to the King. 

“Perhaps the impostor can sing to us,’^ 
she said; “the little beggar maid. Let her 
be sent for, Your Majesty.” 

She came, so changed and sad that no one 
could have recognized the merry heiress-ap- 
parent. She never said a word to her aunt, 
thinking that she, like the rest, would only 
disbelieve her. 

But her little dog crept up to her and 
licked her hand. 

“Can you sing, little girl?” asked the 
Queen, kindly. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied the real 
Princess. 

‘Then sing to us,” said the Queen. 

And without further bidding Rosabella 
took a guitar that lay near and sang a song 
that had been composed expressly for the 
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The Imitation Princess 


heiress-apparent — a song no one else was al- 
lowed to sing. 

There was a great hubbub and noise; the 
real Princess wept happy tears this time, and 
confessed her folly to her grandfather and the 
whole Court. 

Meantime Aggravina slipped away; but, 
as she paused at the top of the long flight of 
marble steps, the little pages-in-waiting who 
had followed her gave chase. She was brought 
back, in her rich and borrowed attire, to the 
throne-room, where she shrank from the gaze 
of so many condemning glances. 

There was no harm, the King told her, in 
dressing up for fun, but she had been untruth- 
ful, and very cruel to the real Princess. She 
must leave the kingdom at once. 

When Aggravina thought of the terrors of 
the mountain she fell on her knees and begged 
for mercy. But the King was very stern. 

63 


The Children of the Shoe 


Then the little Princess felt sorry for Ag- 
gravina, and asked the King to forgive her. 

‘'It was really my fault,” she said, taking 
the King’s hand. “And then, of course, she 
liked being a princess so much that she 
could n’t bear to give it up. She lives far on 
the other side of the mountain, "Your Majesty, 
and is afraid to go home alone.” 

And Aggravina sobbed this time with sor- 
row for her deceit. She said she would like 
to return to the Shoe, but was afraid of the 
terrors of the mountain. 

So the Princess Rosabella gave her many 
presents, and clothes suitable for her station, 
and sent her across the mountain with an 
escort of the King’s guard, who were bidden 
to treat Aggravina very kindly. 

At first nobody was glad to see Aggravina; 
but so changed and humble had she become 
64 


The Imitation Princess 


that in time all the babies loved her, and the 
Old Woman found her a real comfort. In 
later years, when Aggravina left home for the 
second time to seek her fortune in the world, 
she found it, and lived happily ever after. 
But not as an imitation Princess. 


5 


65 


Chapter III 


The Golden Treasure 



|HEN little Merle was born, all the 
birds in the surrounding woods 
came to the christening, for the 


Queen of the nightingales became her god- 
mother. 

'‘She is one of ourselves,” said the feath- 
ered songsters, "and little Merle shall have 
the gift of song. She shall sing from baby- 
hood, and when she goes into the world her 
sweet notes shall win love for her wherever 
she goes.” 

And they were as good as their word. 
Before Merle had left the cradle the birds 
would come and sing to her, and she learned 
their notes before she could talk. 


66 


The Golden Treasure 


Many and many a time she would be miss- 
ing from the Shoe, and they would find her in 
the leafy recesses of the wood, surrounded by 
hundreds of her feathered friends. 

And as she grew her gift increased in power, 
until even the nightingales were proud of her. 

So that when Merle went into the world 
she was very poor in money, but she pos- 
sessed a gift that no money can buy. 

“Wherever you go, your song will make 
friends for you,” said her godmother, the 
nightingale Queen, who was perched upon a 
bough, surrounded by her court. 

Merle stood with her hands behind her 
back, looking up at her godmother. Her blue 
eyes were very serious and intent, for her 
godmother liked to be treated with great 
respect. 

“Yes, godmother,” she said. 

“And you must not keep your songs only 

67 


The Children of the Shoe 


for the rich and great,” said the nightingale 
Queen. ‘‘The poor have few joys, and I dare 
say you can do much good by your gift.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Merle for the second time. 

“On your way through the world the 
feathered tribe will help and protect you,” 
said the nightingale, pruning her feathers; 
“but there is one exception, and that is my 
husband’s second cousin, Claribella. She has 
never forgiven me for excelling her in song. 
I am the only one that has ever done so, for 
she has a marvelous voice. She will try to 
injure you because you are my goddaughter, 
so beware of her.’’ 

She spoke so solemnly that Merle felt a 
thrill of fear. 

“But how shall I know her?” she asked. 

“She is a little, insignificant thing,” said 
the Queen, pluming herself with dignity, “not 
in the least like me. You will know her by a 
68 


The Golden Treasure 


small tuft of white feathers on her breast. 
She sings in the wood near the palace, and 
the King and his courtiers go out on the 
terrace every night and listen to her. Her 
notes are so exquisite that no one could im- 
agine her capable of an ill deed. Now, good- 
bye, little Merle, and take care of your golden 
treasure; may it bring you good fortune.” 
For that was what the nightingales called 
Merle’s voice. 

The birds flew off, led by the Queen, and 
Merle began her journey. 

She had a satchel of food, an alpenstock, 
and the silver coin, which she was only to 
make the best use of, while she carried a new 
pair of shoes in case her own wore out. 

They missed Merle in the Shoe, and the 
babies cried in chorus for a week, because 
she was not there to sing their good-night 
lullabies. 


69 


The Children of the Shoe 


Merle passed in safety across the moun- 
tain. The birds were her friends whenever 
she needed them, and their kindness relieved 
the solitude of the journey. 

After a time she drew near to the out- 
skirts of a large town. Her shoes were very 
thin, but she had not yet been forced to re- 
place them with the new pair. There seemed 
such numbers of people walking in the streets 
that Merle felt afraid, and she sat down under 
a tree by the wayside and ate her last por- 
tion of food. 

It was such a very small portion that she 
did not feel much the better for it. She had 
hardly finished the last morsel when the sound 
of sobs struck upon her ear. She looked up 
and down and round about her, but there was 
no sign of anybody. The sobs seemed to 
come from behind her, and when she walked 
70 


The Golden Treasure 


round the tree she saw a little beggar girl 
seated on the ground, crying bitterly. 

She was so thin and in such rags that 
Merle’s heart ached for her. 

“What is the matter?” she asked, bending 
over her. 

The child ceased her sobs and smiled 
through her tears, touching with a wondering . 
finger Merle’s long, golden hair as it fell 
around her. 

It reached below her- knees in a dazzling, 
golden shower, but Merle had never learned 
that it was so wonderful, and she did not 
understand until the little beggar girl spoke 
her admiration aloud. 

“You must be a princess,” she said; “none 
but princesses have hair like this.” 

Merle laughed merrily. “I am only a 
little beggar girl myself,” she replied; “at 


The Children of the Shoe 


least I have only one coin, and I have come 
into the world to earn my living. But what 
are you so unhappy about?’’ 

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the little 
beggar girl. 

“I was so hungry,” she said, “and I saw 
you eating your bread and butter, and it made 
the pain worse. So I ran here, where I 
could n’t see you until you had finished.” 

Merle felt very distressed. 

“Oh, why did I eat it all up?” she said; 
“there is n’t a crumb left. But — ” 

She paused a moment to think. There 
could be no better use for her money than to 
spend some of it on buying food for such a 
hungry child, and yet it was all she had. 
The next moment she felt ashamed of her 
hesitation. 

“ Come into the town and I will get you 
something to eat,” she said. 

72 


The Golden Treasure 


Then she saw that the feet of the little 
beggar girl were bruised and bare. 

“Put on these nice soft shoes,” she said, 
“and then we will go more quickly.” 

The little beggar girl had never worn a 
pair of shoes in her life, and she could hardly 
take her eyes away from them. They were 
very large for her, it is true, but so soft — and 
they protected her feet from the stones. 

Then she and Merle went into the town 
hand in hand, and everybody turned to look 
at them, for they were a strangely assorted 
pair. 

The little, shivering beggar girl only 
reached to Merle’s shoulder, while Merle was 
slim and upright, and, if her clothes were 
shabby, her hair was like a shower of gold 
and her blue eyes as bright as sapphires. No 
one noticed her shabby clothes and worn little 
shoes. 


73 


The Children of the Shoe 


“It is a princess come to town in disguise,” 
they said, and they jostled one another to get 
a better view, and the butcher-boys climbed 
the lamp-posts and cheered as if it had been 
Lord Mayor’s Day. 

Merle did not understand what the crowd 
meant, but she was very glad when they 
came to a baker’s shop. But the crowd col- 
lected outside and peeped in at the door and 
windows. 

Just then the King rode by on his favorite 
horse, a beautiful bay with a white star upon 
her forehead. 

He reined in his steed and beckoned to his 
equerry. 

“What is the meaning of the crowd?” he 
demanded. “Is there bad news from our 
ships of war — and we have not been warned?” 

A little butcher-boy on a lamp-post near 

74 





The Golden Treasure 


held on with one hand while he respectfully 
pulled his front lock with the other. 

“Please, Your Majesty,” he said, “it’s a 
princess in disguise come to town.” 

The King frowned, thinking the boy meant 
to joke with him, and the butcher-boy was so 
terrified at the frown that he slid down the 
lamp-post and ran off at full speed. Then the 
King beckoned to a policeman, who had for- 
gotten his duties and was peeping with the 
rest. 

“Please, Your Majesty, it is a princess in 
disguise come to town,” he said, on being 
questioned. And the King grew angry. 

He went about in disguise himself some- 
times, but he did not at all approve of prin- 
cesses doing so. 

Just then the equerry, who had been to the 
shop to make inquiries, came back to the 
King. 


77 


The Children of the Shoe 


'‘All I can hear, Your Majesty, is that a 
princess has come to town in disguise,” he 
said, “and went into the shop to purchase 
food. She was so terrified by the crowd that 
the baker’s wife took pity on her and let her 
and her companion out by the back door, and 
no one knows where they have gone. But in 
her haste the disguised princess caught a lock 
of her hair in the door, and the baker’s wife 
had to set her free by cutting the hair, and 
here it is. Your Majesty.” 

And he drew forth a tress of golden hair 
that shone radiantly in the sunshine. 

The King looked at it for a long time in 
silence. Then he drew his sword and cut a 
fluttering ribbon from his doublet, and with 
it fastened the golden lock to his cap, while 
the crowd looked on and wished to cheer, but 
dared not. 


78 


The Golden Treasure 


Then the King rode slowly away towards 
the palace. 

The next day a proclamation was sent 
forth, saying that a handsome reward would 
be given to anybody who discovered the dis- 
guised princess. But weeks passed by, and 
no one gained the reward. 

Now just about this time the King of the 
neighboring country sent an ambassador with 
secret dispatches to the young King, intima- 
ting that it was quite time he thought of get- 
ting married, and that he himself had five 
daughters of a marriageable age, and that he 
was sending them under an escort the follow- 
ing day with their great-aunt to chaperon 
them. 

‘‘Make inquiries,” said the. young King, 
smoothing, as he spoke, between his fingers 
the lock of golden hair, “and if one of the five 

79 


The Children of the Shoe 


princesses has golden hair, I will see her. If 
not, all five may return with their great-aunt. 
My queen must have such hair as this.” 

But the ambassador was obliged to own 
that not one of the princesses had golden hair. 
Two had brown, two black, and the youngest 
red hair. So the five princesses returned to 
their father without being even seen by the 
young King, and so furious was the old King 
at this discourtesy that war appeared to be 
imminent between the two countries. 

But matters were smoothed over, and in 
time the five princesses found suitable hus- 
bands. 

The young King grew gloomy as days 
passed by and the golden-haired princess still 
remained hidden. 

His one solace was to listen to the night- 
ingale singing in the wood beneath the terrace. 

One day a strange rumor passed through 
80 


The Golden Treasure 


the palace. Whether it had its origin in hall 
or kitchen, no one could say, but a whisper 
went round reporting that another nightin- 
gale had been heard in the city, whose notes 
far surpassed those of the bird in the wood 
beneath the terrace. And after a time the 
whisper reached the King. 

‘‘Where is this bird to be found?” he de- 
manded, disbelievingly ; and no one could tell 
him. 

The notes had been heard in the very heart 
of the city, where the houses were so close 
together that the projecting roofs almost 
touched one another. 

The King laughed scornfully. He had al- 
ways been accustomed to possess the best of 
everything, and he did not believe that a bird 
could be found to surpass the royal nightin- 
gale. 

“What nightingale would sing her sweet- 
6 81 


The Children of the Shoe 


est in the heart of a town?” he asked; “and 
where are notes to be heard more liquid and 
sweet than these?” 

For he was leaning over the balustrade of 
the terrace, accompanied by his favorite 
equerry, and Claribella was warbling her very 
best in the wood beneath. 

“True, Your Majesty,” agreed the equerry; 
but he spoke absently, as if his heart was not 
in his words. Then, with a sudden impulse, 
he turned to his moody sovereign, wishing to 
rouse him from his melancholy. 

“Yet I heard a marvelous bird but last 
night, Your Majesty, and I could not trace 
whence it came. The notes flowed so liquid 
and pure that I paused, entranced.” 

The King raised himself from his stooping 
posture, and his face grew interested. 

“Where were you when you heard the 
sounds?” he asked. 


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The Golden Treasure 


“In the very heart of the city, Your Maj- 
esty. I was taking a short cut through the 
narrow streets that wind in between the 
ancient gabled houses that Your Majesty 
thinks should be pulled down. From which 
of the houses the sound came I can not tell, 
for the notes thrilled far above me and seemed 
to reach the very clouds.” 

The King threw his cloak around his 
shoulders and put on a large slouched hat, so 
that no one meeting him should know he was 
the King. 

“Let us go to these same gabled houses,” 
he said; “perchance the bird may sing to- 
night. We would learn for ourselves the 
truth of the matter.” 

They passed quickly through the town. 
The streets were for the most part deserted, 
for the townsfolk were at their evening meal, 
and the children had gone to bed long before. 
85 


The Children of the Shoe 


No one recognized them as they strode along, 
and presently they reached the gabled houses 
in the very heart of the city. 

The moon was shining full upon one little 
peaked window, in which a light shone dimly. 
The rest was all in darkness. 

The attention of the King was caught by 
the little glimmer of light so near the sky, 
and he folded his arms and leaned against 
the opposite wall, looking up at it intently. 

No sound broke the stillness of the night 
for a time; then they heard a faint trill like 
the awakening notes of birds in the nest at 
dawn. The King held up one finger to de- 
mand silence, and then a stream of melody 
poured forth, rising higher and higher, until 
the sweet notes seemed to reach the very 
sky. 

And the King listened entranced, and un- 
able to stir until the song died away. His 
86 


The Golden Treasure 


eyes were fixed on the little glimmering light 
so far above his head. 

“Methinks the song came from yonder,” 
he said to his equerry. “I must have that 
bird, at whatever cost. There is no such 
nightingale in the whole of my kingdom.” 

Together they went up to the house. The 
door was closed, but half hanging from the 
hinges. 

Under his cloak the equerry carried a 
lantern, and by its light they groped their way 
up the crazy staircase, passing many closed 
doors on their way. But no one heard them 
pass. 

Up, up they went, until there were no 
more stairs to mount, and only one little, 
dark, closed door confronted them. 

The King gently opened it and looked in. 

There was a faint light burning, and the 
little crescent moon shone in at the window. 
87 


The Children of the Shoe 


In a corner was a miserable bed, and on it 
lay the little beggar girl, tossing about in 
fever, and ever and again calling to “the 
Princess’’ to come and sing her to sleep. 

As the King went in. Merle was sitting in 
the midst of the moonbeams, sobbing because 
she could not lull the sick child to slumber. 
All her wonderful hair lay around her in a 
golden glory, streaming over the grimy floor 
and making an illumination in the dim light. 
And the King knew that, after all, he had 
been the one to find the princess in disguise. 
Then the heaviness of his heart vanished, and 
he took off his hat and bowed low, saying, 
“Why are you here amidst such grime and 
poverty, Princess?” 

Merle rose to her feet and, blushing and 
hanging her head, said, “But, indeed, I am 
not a princess; I, too, am only a beggar girl 
now, for I have no money left to buy nice 
88 


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The Golden Treasure 


things to make her well, and 1 am so afraid 
she will die. Poor girl, she thought I was a 
princess because my hair is golden!” 

Then Merle sobbed bitterly, for she had 
grown to love the little beggar girl, and they 
had lived together happily until the silver 
coin had all been spent. 

The King’s face was full of pity as he 
looked down at the sick child. He beckoned 
the equerry and told him to hasten to the 
Court physician and bid him come speedily. 
He stroked Merle’s golden hair, and spoke to 
her so kindly that her fears fled away 

Then the King recollected the nightingale. 

‘‘Have you heard the singing of a won- 
derful bird to-night?” he asked. 

Merle shook her head. “ I heard no bird,” 
she replied. 

“But it seemed to come from here,” said 
the King. 


91 


The Children of the Shoe 


Merle blushed again, and was about to 
speak when the little beggar girl sat up in bed 
and held out her thin arms appealingly. 

‘‘Sing to me, Princess,” she said; “sing 
me to sleep.” 

And when Merle began to sing, the King 
realized the truth. In finding the princess he 
had found the nightingale too. 

When Merle’s song was finished, the King 
stooped and kissed her hand. 

“Will you come to the palace and sing to 
me sometimes?” he asked. 

“Yes,” replied Merle, simply. 

The little beggar girl had fallen into a 
peaceful sleep at last, and when the great 
Court physician arrived he pronounced her to 
be out of danger. 

And the little beggar girl lived in pros- 
perity all the rest of her life, while Merle’s 
92 


The Golden Treasure 


golden treasure brought her love and happi- 
ness, as her godmother had foretold, for the 
King made her not only a Princess, but a 
Queen. 


93 


Chapter IV 


The King’s Bodyguard 

was a revolution in the coun- 
4 ^ try ruled over by King Ranunculo 

the Seventh. 

The King went in fear of his life; Parlia- 
ment refused to sit on account of the heat of 
the weather; no new laws were made, which, 
after all, did not signify, as none of the old 
ones were obeyed; everybody did exactly as 
he chose; the police gave up attempting to 
keep order and, putting on plain clothes, pre- 
tended to be ordinary people. The locksmiths 
did a roaring trade, for everybody was so 
afraid of everybody else that each householder 
had innumerable bolts and bars put upon his 
dwelling for fear of burglars. 

94 


The King's Bodyguard 


But, despite all these precautions, burglars 
throve apace and would enter the houses in 
broad daylight, wearing masks to disguise 
their features; and no one dared to interfere 
with them. 

The children played about all day, for the 
schools were closed. It was a lawless time, 
and all the worry and disorder was due to the 
carelessness of the King and of the Court 
goldsmith, who had allowed the crown and 
scepter to be stolen from his premises. Every 
year these two articles of value were sent, 
under a mounted escort, to be cleaned and 
examined thoroughly, in case any of the 
priceless gems should be loose in the setting. 
The Court goldsmith himself received crown 
and scepter from the hands of the Captain 
of the Guard, and placed them immediately 
in a heavily clamped iron safe, of which he 
and the King alone had keys. 


The Children of the Shoe 


A public holiday was given, which lasted 
for three days, until the return of the valuables 
to the palace. The city was a scene of revelry 
and merriment during that space of time, and 
at the end the populace followed the King’s 
guard in procession to reclaim the jewels and 
bear them in triumph back to the palace. 

This year, however, the Court goldsmith 
met them with a story which sent a thrill of 
wonder through the crowd. 

It appears that he had carefully examined 
the baubles, and had found that two of the 
rubies in the crown were loose. After attend- 
ing to this matter, he polished both crown - 
and scepter until they shone with a dazzling 
splendor such as he had never seen in all his 
years of office, and then he carefully replaced 
them in the safe. The key he wore around 
his neck, attached to a thick gold chain, and 
it had never left its position. 

96 


The King's Bodyguard 


Just before the arrival of the King’s guard 
he had unlocked the safe, only to find that 
crown and scepter had vanished from their 
velvet bed. All this he told the Captain of 
the Guard, trembling with fear under the 
soldier’s fierce gaze. 

'‘Show me the key, miscreant,” the Cap- 
tain of the Guard thundered in an angry voice. 
And the little goldsmith drew it forth from the 
folds of his black velvet doublet. 

Yes, there it dangled before the eyes of 
the assembled multitude — a golden key, em- 
blazoned with a large R. and Seven in bril- 
liants. There was no other key like it in the 
whole of the kingdom, save the one in the 
King’s own charge. 

Putting spurs to his horse, the Captain of 
the Guard galloped at full speed to the palace, 
followed by horsemen and populace, helter- 
skelter. The King was playing a quiet game 

7 97 


The Children of the Shoe 


of chess with the Queen when they arrived, 
bringing a cloud of dust with them that 
caused both their Majesties to sneeze vio- 
lently. 

The King, who had been meditating a most 
important move, overturned the table by the 
violence of his sneezing, and was greatly an- 
noyed. 

‘‘Tell them to go away,” he said, irritably, 
to the Lord Chamberlain. “Tell them to go 
away at once. My love,” he then said to the 
Queen, “can you remember the position of 
the chessmen?” 

But the Queen, who had had enough of 
chess for one day, seized her opportunity and 
was now at the window, looking out at her 
agitated subjects. “Ranunculo, my dear,” 
she said, growing alarmed, “had you not bet- 
ter inquire the meaning of this tumult at our 
very doors?” 


98 


The King's Bodyguard 


But the King was still very cross. The 
game had so nearly been his this time — as a 
rule the Queen won — and the violence of the 
sneezing had robbed him of his dignity. 

“I wish they’d go away,” he repeated, re- 
placing two of the pawns on the chessboard. 
“Are we never to be allowed privacy? Go 
awayl Go away!"' he exclaimed, opening the 
window and putting his head out. “ away!'" 

“ My love,” expostulated the Queen, “your 
behavior may excite a revolution. Pray, be 
calm!” 

At the sight of the King the citizens grew 
uproarious, and all tried to speak at once. 
Then the Captain of the Guard ordered silence 
and, riding nearer to the window, broke the 
terrible news to their Majesties. 

There was deep silence for a moment, then 
the King was seen to totter into a chair, and 
a hoarse murmur rose from the crowd. 

99 


The Children of the Shoe 


'‘The key, the key!” they cried. 

“Show them the key,” said the Queen, 
who still kept her presence of mind under this 
ordeal; “show them the key, and then have 
the Court goldsmith instantly arrested.” 

The King feebly groped amidst the folds 
of his velvet and ermine robes. The key was 
not there. He fell back in his chair and shook 
his head. 

The expectant crowd groaned audibly. 

“My love,” said the Queen, in an agitated 
voice, “try to recollect where you last saw 
it. So much depends upon its being found.” 

The King thought for a moment, while 
everybody held their breath; some of the 
citizens were looking in at the windows, and 
no one said them nay for their want of respect. 
They, too, knew how much depended upon 
the finding of the regalia. Until the crown 
and scepter were once more safely in the 
100 


The King's Bodyguard 


palace, the public holiday must continue, and 
they all knew what that meant for the coun- 
try. 

Then the King sat upright. 

‘ ‘ I had it last evening in the bowling 
alley,” he said; and before the words had 
left his lips the whole populace had started 
off at full speed in the direction of the bowling 
alley, trampling down shrubs and flowers in 
their mad search for the key. But, needless 
to say, no key was to be found. A small por- 
tion of the royal chain was there, with one 
bright red ruby dangling from it; but that 
was all. 

From that day the kingdom was given 
over to misrule. The King and Queen dared 
not leave the palace, for all their subjects 
blamed them for the loss of the crown and 
scepter, and vowed they would obey no King 
or Queen. 


101 


The Children of the Shoe 


The King gave way to despair, and sat 
idle and wretched day after day; but the 
Queen was more sensible, and set her wits to 
work. 

‘‘Now, mark my words, Ranunculo,” she 
said, after thinking deeply for seven days and 
nights. “It’s no use sitting there doing noth- 
ing but twiddling your thumbs.” But Ra- 
nunculo the Seventh only shook his head and 
groaned in despair. 

“I’ve no heart for anything^ he replied. 

The Queen grew angry, and thought for 
another seven days and nights. 

,“I do believe it’s the fault of your ras- 
cally uncles, the three magicians,” she said 
at the end of that time. 

The King’s face grew a shade more hopeful. 

“They’ve played some abominable 
pranks,” he said; “but surely they 
would n’t ” 


102 


The King's Bodyguard 


'‘Yes, they would,” replied the Queen, 
briskly. “I thought they were up to some 
fresh mischief when I saw the mountain blaz- 
ing so brightly. They do n’t have a bonfire 
for nothing. You must offer a reward. Ra- 
mi nculo!” 

“What’s the use?” queried the King, 
wearily. “ Nobody ’d face them for the big- 
gest reward that was ever offered for their 
recovery.” 

“We can try, at least,” said the Queen, 
who was less easily daunted. 

The enmity of the people was so great by 
this time that the King did not dare to admit 
them to a conference in the Presence Chamber, 
which was the usual mode of procedure. Yet 
how was he to acquaint them with the offer 
of reward? 

The Queen again put her wits to work. 
She procured a huge piece of cardboard, and 
103 


The Children of the Shoe 


upon it she printed in letters of at least a foot 
in length: 

‘ ‘ Reward ! Reward ! Reward ! 

‘‘Whereas the Royal Crown and Scepter 
have been stolen by some person or persons 
unknown, the sum of ” 

The Queen paused and looked at His 
Majesty inquiringly. “Shall we say seven 
hundred pounds, Ranunculo?” 

The King drummed his fingers upon the 
window-pane. 

“Better make it a thousand,” he said, 
shrugging his shoulders, as if he hoped little 
from the experiment. “We can raise it by 
degrees, if that won’t induce them to face 
the magicians.” 

The Queen went on printing the letters; 
then she paused again. 

‘Better advise them where to seek,” she 
said. 


104 





The King's Bodyguard 


“I tell you, it’s no use,” snapped Ranun- 
culo the Seventh. ‘‘They’ve endured enough 
through my malignant uncles. Why are my 
uncles so much worse than other people’s?” 

“Foolish regrets won’t mend matters,” 
said the Queen, sensibly, beginning to print 
another letter a foot in length. “They are 
your uncles, and you did n’t choose them, so 
you can’t be blamed for owning them. I 
shall add that we, Ranunculo the Seventh and 
his Queen, advise the searchers to go in the 
direction of the mountain, where dwell our 
uncles, the three magicians. There, that’s 
plain enough for all the world to read.” And 
so it was — the letters might have been read 
at a great distance. 

Then a fresh difficulty arose — how to get 
it hung out of the palace windows. Of all the 
Court and retainers, the Lord Chamberlain 
only remained. Everybody else was idling 
107 


The Children of the Shoe 


with his friends about the town; for no one, 
of course, was obliged to do any work. The 
King and Queen had learned to wait on them- 
selves, and the Queen (from sheer necessity) 
was turning out a first-rate cook. 

The Lord Chamberlain was summoned, 
and with his help they managed to hang the 
notice from one of the upper windows of the 
palace. A large crowd immediately assembled, 
and the King watched them eagerly from be- 
hind the curtain. 

No one offered to earn the reward. 

‘‘I told you so,” said the King, gloomily, 
as the crowd, little by little, melted away. 

‘‘We’ll offer to double it,” said the Queen, 
briskly; and before long another crowd as- 
sembled, and though one or two loitered, as 
if hesitating, so great was the fear of the 
three magicians that they, too, in turn de- 
parted. 


108 


The King's Bodyguard 


“You’ll have to go yourself,’’ said the 
Queen as night fell and they hauled in the 
useless poster. “Something must be done; 
and after all, Ranunculo, it was your fault.’’ 

“7 go, indeed 1’’ said His Majesty, scorn- • 
fully. “/ face my three uncles! Not likely! 
Increase the reward to fifty thousand.’’ 

This was done, but still no one offered, 
though he sat behind the curtain all next day, 
and would touch no food in his terrible anxiety. 

“You must go!” said the Queen. “If you 
do n’t, you ’ll lose your throne altogether. 
Each day brings us nearer a Republic.” 

So at last the King consented to go; but 
he said he must disguise himself in order that 
his uncles should not know him. Thereupon 
he donned a very plain brown robe, a turban, 
and a long white beard, until no one would 
have known him to be the King. Then they 
went to the stables to find a horse on which 
109 


The Children of the Shoe 


to ride to the mountain. But not one horse 
remained. All had been taken by the cour- 
tiers. 

In a distant stall a donkey stood munch- 
ing carrots contentedly, not seeming to mind 
the solitude in the least. The Queen patted 
the rough neck. 

‘‘He will be sure-footed,” she said; “and 
you will run no risk of recognition. They will 
think you are a peddler with your pack. Dawn 
will soon break, and now is your safest time 
to start.” 

The streets were quite deserted when the 
King rode along. The watchmen no longer 
kept watch, the soldiers never mounted guard, 
the city was left to its own devices. The King 
sighed heavily at all this disorder, and deter- 
mined, if possible, to frustrate his uncles’ 
wicked plans; but he wished that some one 
had been faithful enough to accompany him. 

110 


The King's Bodyguard 


He was out of the town now, and hardly 
had the wish passed his lips when he saw a 
very tall young man trudging along the dusty 
road towards him. Day had dawned, and a 
rosy light illumined fields and hedges. 

The young man drew nearer, and the King 
saw that he looked weary and travel-stained, 
and was hardly more than a lad, though his 
height was very great. 

It was Rollo, who had left the Shoe a few 
weeks earlier, and who so far had only 
earned enough to supply him with food. For, 
though good-natured, Rollo was not at all 
clever, and hitherto had only done rough 
work on farms. The King was very anxious 
to have a companion, so he checked his steed. 

'‘Do you want a job, my lad?” he asked. 

"Yes,” replied Rollo, "I’m going into the 
town yonder to see if I can earn my break- 
fast.” 


Ill 


The Children of the Shoe 


“If you come with me, you may perhaps 
earn thousands of pounds,” said the King. 

Rollo laughed aloud, thinking this well- 
to-do peddler meant to make fun of him. 

The King drew from his pack a handful of 
gold. “I mean what I say, and there’s some- 
thing to start with, if you’ll enter my service.” 

Rollo had never seen so much money in 
his life, and his eyes nearly rolled from his 
head in astonishment. He agreed to journey 
on with the peddler, little dreaming that he 
had really accepted the post of bodyguard to 
a king. The King looked with delight at 
Rollo’s great strength. Here was some one 
worth having to help him against the three 
magicians. 

They presently paused at the foot of the 
mountain and sat down to enjoy the food 
contained in the pack. As Rollo looked up 
at the mountain his face grew pale. 

112 



8 




V* 



The King's Bodyguard 


“I wish we were going in another direc- 
tion,” he said. 

'‘Why?” asked the King, curious to know 
the reason of his fears. 

"When I passed along I saw three dread- 
ful-looking men seated round a fire,” said 
Rollo. "Each was gnawing a great bone, 
and now and then they would throw fresh 
fuel on the fire that seemed to come out of 
the top of the mountain. The air was scorch- 
ing and full of bits of cinder and ashes. I 
was so frightened I lay down behind a boulder 
and watched them, and presently one of 
them took from a sack a wonderful crown all 
glittering with points of red like the light of 
dawn.” 

The King was listening intently. 

"Go on!” he commanded. 

"He put on the crown and waved in his 
hand a strange kind of wand set with the 
115 


The Children of the Shoe 


same red lights,” continued Rollo, “and then 
they all looked towards the town and laughed, 
and their wicked faces shone in the light of 
the fire.” 

The King bent forward. “Boy,” he said, 
“that is my crown and my scepter. I am 
the King of this country ; my palace lies 
yonder. My life and safety depend upon 
the regaining of those glittering baubles, and 
the safety of my Queen also.” 

Rollo never doubted him, he spoke so 
earnestly, and looked every inch a king. 

“They put the things back into the sack 
and hid it behind a boulder. Your Majesty; 
let us keep to the far side of the mountain and 
surprise them. Maybe they are asleep.” 

Slowly and carefully they wended their 
way up the mountain, the sure-footed little 
donkey appearing to realize the danger, too. 
The air grew hotter, and feathery ashes fell 
116 


The King's Bodyguard 


around them. They covered their mouths to 
keep the hot fumes from their lungs. 

Up they went very cautiously, listening to 
every sound, not knowing the moment when 
the three magicians might pounce upon them 
from behind one of the huge boulders. 

Presently Rollo held up his hand for 
silence and motioned to the King to stand 
still. Then he climbed a boulder cautiously 
and looked over it. His face broke into a 
smile, and he descended once more to the 
King’s side. 

“They are asleep,” he whispered, “and 
their faces are fiery red with the heat. The 
flames are coming out of the mountain close 
beside them, and they must be in great 
danger.” 

“But the sack containing the crown and 
scepter?” exclaimed the King, anxiously. 

“It’s under the feet of the biggest ma- 
il? 


The Children of the Shoe 


gician,” replied Rollo. ‘‘I dare not get it, 
Your Majesty.” 

Just then a great heap of ashes and cin- 
ders came from the top of the mountain, and 
the King wrung his hands. “At any moment 
it may be too late,” he said, in despairing 
tones. “ I must risk all and go.” 

But the King was a small man, and Rollo 
motioned him back. “I will go,” he said. 
“If I fail, do not wait, Your Majesty; it is 
three to one, but better I than you.” He 
clambered up the boulder and dropped down 
on the other side, and for a few moments the 
King stood there with a wildly beating heart; 
for did not his kingdom, nay, his very life, 
depend on brave Rollo’s success? The next 
moment he heard Rollo’s voice calling, “Fly, 
Your Majesty — fly for your life ! I am coming, 
too! Do not pause an instant!” And the 
next moment Rollo appeared running down 
118 








The King^s Bodyguard 


the steep mountain side at full speed, with 
one of the magicians after him. 

The King saw that over his shoulder Rollo 
carried the sack containing the crown and 
scepter. The magician, in his fury, was gain- 
ing every moment, when just then a strange 
thing happened. The flames from the burn- 
ing mountain, as if they had broken bounds 
at last, flared up towards the sky. With them 
arose a perfect hurricane of stones and large 
boulders. The very air grew dark with them, 
and the King and Rollo lay down, thinking 
their last hour was come. They heard a ter- 
rible cry from the magician, and when the air 
cleared they saw that one of the boulders had 
fallen upon him, killing him instantly. The 
same fate had befallen his brothers, and the 
country was rid of them forever. 

When the tumult had ceased, the King 
and Rollo rose from the ground, and the 
121 


The Children of the Shoe 


former trembled so violently that Rollo had 
to support him for a moment. They were 
both white from head to foot with dust and 
ashes from the burning mountain, and the 
King’s hair and beard were so singed with the 
heat that they never fully recovered. 

But Ranunculo the Seventh was too happy 
to care for appearances. He patted Rollo on 
the back and declared that his fortune was 
made. Then he poked his head into the sack 
to see that the crown and scepter were un- 
harmed, and Rollo was dazzled by their mag- 
nificence. 

They found the good little donkey crop- 
ping the short grass as unconcernedly as if 
nothing unusual had taken place, and the 
King mounted, setting the sack with its 
precious contents carefully before him. It 
was indeed a joyous return! As they neared 
the city they saw groups of idle citizens 
122 


The King's Bodyguard 


lounging about the street corners not at- 
tempting to do any work, their hands in their 
pockets and their pipes in their mouths — all 
of them demoralized during the reign of idle- 
ness. And again the King’s heart rejoiced as 
he looked at the sack whose contents meant 
so much to the kingdom. 

Now, it is a very certain fact that when 
people grow idle and discontented they lose 
their manners after a time. As the King 
passed along slowly, some of the little street 
urchins began to run after him, making rude 
remarks about the peddler and his pack. Of 
course no one guessed him to be the King. 
The men, instead of reproving them, laughed 
and joined in the fun, and one or two even 
wanted to lay hands on the sack. The King 
looked round helplessly for the police — but, of 
course, they were on strike, too. Just as one 
of the foremost of the crowd put out his hand, 
123 


The Children of the Shoe 


Rollo clutched his alpenstock more firmly and 
struck him upon the wrist, and the man fell 
back with a cry of pain. They were nearing 
the palace gates now, and from one of the 
upper windows the Queen looked out to see 
what the hubbub meant. 

With her customary presence of mind, she 
ran with all speed to the entrance gates just 
as the procession reached them. She opened 
them sufficiently to allow the King and Rollo 
to enter, and then she shot the bolts triumph- 
antly in the very face of the disappointed 
crowd, who saw no reason why they should 
be shut out while the strangers were admitted. 
The Queen raised her hands in wonderment 
and looked inquiringly at the King. 

''Yes, we’ve got them,” he said, "all safe 
and sound; not a scratch on either of them.” 

But the Queen was not thinking of the 
124 


The King's Bodyguard 


crown jewels; instead of rejoicing, a sob es- 
caped her. 

‘‘Oh, Ranunculo!” she exclaimed, “what 
have you done to your hair? It’s ruined for- 
ever.’’ 

“Bless me,’’ said the King, testily, “how 
can you think of hair at such a glorious time 
as this? What matter if I lost it all, so that 
the regalia is in safety and the kingdom pre- 
served from ruin? There, there, my dear, 
cheer up — it will grow again! Of course you 
were right, as you always are, and my rascally 
uncles will not trouble us again.” 

Then Ranunculo placed the crown upon 
his head, and, handing the scepter to his 
Queen, led the way into the banqueting hall. 

The people could hardly contain them- 
selves for joy when they heard that the crown 
and scepter were once more safely in the 
125 


The Children of the Shoe 


palace. The magic laid upon them completely 
disappeared, and everybody returned to his 
or her duties, full of repentance. The country 
had never been so peaceful and orderly. 

Rollo’s simplicity and bravery endeared 
him to all. No one envied him his good for- 
tune, and he always held the first place in 
the bodyguard of the King. 


126 


Chapter V 

The Winter Palace 


■^Sj^ESPITE his bravery, little Gyp found 
y his way into the world long and 
^ ^ rugged. He had barely realized his 
weakness until the shelter of the Shoe was 
lost to him; but he went forward uncomplain- 
ingly. His wistful face became a little thinner 
and more wistful as time went by, and his 
grasp of his crutches grew less firm; they 
slipped on the loose stones of the mountain 
.side, and he was always glad when night fell 
and he could rest, lying on his back in the 
darkness, looking up at the friendly stars — 
the same stars that had shone down on the 
dear old Shoe. He shared his supper with 
the squirrels and birds, for all wild things 
127 


The Children of the Shoe 


loved Gyp and never feared him. Day by 
day the weather became colder; winter was 
approaching, a keen touch of frost was in the 
air. Gyp used to collect the fallen leaves and 
make a bed of them to keep himself warm, 
and there he would huddle until only the tip 
of his nose was visible. 

At last, when he had almost begun to 
despair, he reached the foot of the mountain. 
Before him stretched a level green plain, with 
a stream of water crossing it like a silver rib- 
bon. 

The sky was a brilliant blue, the few leaves 
left on the trees were russet and gold in the 
sunlight — it seemed hardly possible that win- 
ter was at hand. Gyp sat down on the bank 
of the stream and placed his crutches beside 
him. The sun’s hot rays eased the pain in 
his back, and he grew more cheerful. The 
gay piping of a flute came towards him on 
128 


The Winter Palace 


the breeze, and he leant upon one elbow to 
listen. 

Nearer and nearer the sound came, now 
loud, now faint, as the breeze blew it towards 
him or away — first a few notes like a black- 
bird at dawn, then a stream of melody like the 
gurgling of a nightingale in the woods at dusk. 

As Gyp looked a curious sight met his 
gaze. Coming towards him across the plain 
was a boy not much older than himself, but 
strong and lusty, blowing his pipe until his 
cheeks were inflated to twice their usual size. 
Following the player came hundreds of geese 
in single file, looking like a long, narrow white 
ribbon as they waddled across the plain. They 
were all so solemn and precise that Gyp 
laughed aloud, and the gooseherd took his 
pipe away from his mouth and looked at him 
in astonishment. He stopped, and the geese 
all stopped in a row, too. 

9 129 


The Children of the Shoe 


‘'What’s there to laugh at?” asked the 
gooseherd, in a surly voice. 

Gyp had not meant to offend him, and 
then he saw that tears were standing in the 
eyes of the gooseherd. “They looked so 
comical,” he explained, in an apologetic 
voice, “all waddling together and keeping in 
a straight line. I ’ve never seen such a thing 
before.” 

The gooseherd put his pipe to his lips 
again, but the notes refused to come. Tears 
began to trickle down his brown cheeks, and 
he brushed his hand across his eyes as if 
ashamed of his grief. Gyp thought he must 
be dreadfully offended, and felt half inclined 
to cry, too. Then the gooseherd waved his 
hand, and the geese all waddled away towards 
the stream. Their master sat down beside 
Gyp. 

“I love every one of them,” he said, “and 
130 



t 




The Winter Palace 


they’re all going to Mother Goose’s kitchen 
to be plucked for Christmas.” 

He turned over on his face and sobbed 
outright, while the geese, unconscious of their 
approaching fate, all cackled loudly in chorus 
and fluffed out their snowy plumage. But 
the leader of them waddled over to his master 
and thrust his yellow bill under his down- 
cast head. The gooseherd sat up and put 
his arm round his feathered friend. 

“They shan't go to be killed!” he said, 
vehemently. “It’s a shame! She shan’t 
have them!” 

“Can’t we hide them somewhere?” asked 
Gyp. “They are too nice to be plucked and 
roasted.” 

The gooseherd’s face brightened. 

“I never thought of that,” he said. “Per- 
haps we could hide them until it’s too late 
for the Christmas dinners. But we must 
133 


The Children of the Shoe 


hasten, for Mother Goose’s kitchen is at no 
great distance, and she may send ” 

He broke off suddenly, and shaded his 
eyes with his hand, looking anxiously into the 
far distance. “Oh, he’s coming, he’s com- 
ing!” he cried. “It’s too late!” 

Gyp got up and looked, too. Coming 
towards them was a strange-looking little 
dwarf, dressed in bright red, with a fantastic 
pointed cap on his head. 

On his feet he had very large brown boots 
with pointed toes that curled up, and he cov- 
ered the ground at great speed, seeming al- 
most to fly along. In one hand he held a 
large spoon, and in the other a great slice of 
plum-cake. 

“It’s Mother Goose’s head cook,” said the 
little gooseherd, in a whisper, “and that’s 
the spoon he bastes them with. Oh, it’s too 
late, too late!” and he pressed the goose’s 
134 


The Winter Palace 


head against his arm tremblingly. The dwarf 
approached still nearer, taking an occasional 
bite out of his cake. He had a little sharp 
face, his chin and his nose almost met, while 
his eyes were like two black beads. He ap- 
peared to be in a very bad temper. 

“What’s the meaning of this delay, I’d 
like to know?” he demanded, flourishing his 
basting spoon threateningly towards the little 
gooseherd. “Here’s Mother Goose worrying 
me out of my life because the last batch are n’t 
up to time, as if it was my fault. What d ’ye 
mean by it, you young rascal?” 

He paused, breathless with his exertions, 
and to Gyp’s relief, instead of striking the 
gooseherd with the spoon, he took a large bite 
of cake, so large, indeed, that it all disappeared 
into his very capacious mouth. 

“I was resting a little,” replied the goose- 
herd, in a timid voice, “and — and ” He 

135 


The Children of the Shoe 


broke down and turned away, meaning to 
add that it was the last day, and he could 
not bear to hasten his flock towards destruc- 
tion. But his grief overcame him, and he 
could say no more. 

‘‘What’s the matter with him?” asked 
the dwarf, in his squeaky voice, turning to 
Gyp. “What does he mean by ‘and — and?’ 
Can’t he speak plainer than that? Never 
heard such rubbish in my life!” 

Gyp, too, felt afraid of the fierce little man, 
but he tried to explain. 

The dwarf interrupted him rudely. 

“You’re as bad as he is,” he said, leaning 
on the basting spoon, which was nearly as 
big as himself. “Never came across such a 
stupid pair of children in my life! Not able 
to speak at your age! Tut, tut, I ’d be 
ashamed of myself if I were you! D’ye like 
my boots?” 


136 



4 


$ 


I 




The Winter Palace 


He jerked the words out so suddenly that 
Gyp nearly dropped one of his crutches. 

“They’re very — ” Gyp paused; he could 
not truthfully say they were pretty — “very 
uncommon.” 

The dwarf’s face wrinkled into a gratified 
smile. He thrust out one large foot and 
looked at it admiringly. 

“They are uncommon, are n’t they? Un- 
commonly uncommon. Father Christmas did 
me a good turn when he gave me these last 
Christmas. Do n’t suppose there’s a pair to 
match ’em anywhere.” 

Gyp thought that a very good thing, but 
he did not dare to say so. The dwarf turned 
to the gooseherd. 

“Blow your pipe and get ’em together,” 
he said, briskly, and the little gooseherd put 
his trembling lips to his flute. The geese 
hastened towards him in ones and twos and 
139 


The Children of the Shoe 


threes, taking up their position in line of 
march, waddling and cackling to the best of 
their ability. 

The dwarf counted them as they came, 
keeping time with his basting spoon. 

“They do you credit, gooseherd,” he 
said, pompously, “great credit; haven’t seen 
plumper birds this season. They’re worthy 
of the King’s larder, and I dare say that’s 
where they’ll go.’’ 

But such praise only made the little goose- 
herd more melancholy. He led the way, 
blowing a sad little air upon his pipe, and the 
geese followed him in a row. 

The dwarf took one or two flying leaps 
after them, then he noticed that Gyp had not 
moved. 

In his sorrow the little gooseherd had for- 
gotten to say good-bye, and Gyp felt lonely 
and down-hearted. 


140 


The Winter Palace 


Despite his sharp tongue, the dwarf had 
a very kind heart. He turned and saw Gyp’s 
solitary little figure standing alone. He took 
two flying leaps back. 

‘‘What are you going to do?” he asked, 
his beady black eyes looking inquisitively at 
Gyp’s crutches. ‘‘You’d better- not stay 
here, you know; Mother Goose has been 
pretty busy, and it’s going to snow before 
long. See how it’s darkening over, and the 
trees will be bare in no time. Look!” He 
pointed upwards with the basting spoon. 

Then Gyp saw that the leaves had fallen 
in a thick russet shower, and that now only 
two or three clung to the branches. The sky 
had clouded over, and all the blue had disap- 
peared; a thin gray mist was overhead. Even 
as he looked the last leaves fluttered down- 
wards and the first flake of snow floated into 
his upturned face. Winter had come in ear- 
141 


The Children of the Shoe 


nest. Gyp shivered as he felt its icy breath. 
Then another flake fell softly, and another 
and another. The dwarf capered about de- 
lightedly. 

“There they come,” he said, “faster and 
faster. Mother Goose has begun in real 
earnest; she’ll be up to her eyes in feathers 
directly. I must be off, or the oven will be 
getting cool.” 

Across the plain came the faint sound of 
the gooseherd’s pipe; the long white ribbon 
of geese became narrower and more narrow, 
until it seemed no wider than the cotton on 
a reel. 

A flake of snow drifted into Gyp’s blue 
eyes and made his vision dim, and when he 
looked again the long white thread had dis- 
appeared. 

“Here they come!” cried the dwarf, try- 
ing to catch the flakes in his basting spoon. 
142 


The Winter Palace 


“Here they cornel See what a hurry they’re 
in, to be surel You really must be quick, you 
know, or your teeth will be chattering in no 
time.’’ 

“But I have nowhere to go!’’ exclaimed 
Gyp, his lips quivering as he spoke. “I am 
quite alone.’’ 

The dwarf put his finger to his forehead 
in deep thought and leaned upon his basting 
spoon. “It’s Wish Night,’’ he said, suddenly. 

“What’s Wish Night?’’ asked Gyp. 

“ Do n’t know what Wish Night is? ’’ asked 
the dwarf, in astonishment. “Well, to be 
sure! What funny, ignorant people there are 
in the world! It’s Wish Night at the Winter 
Palace, and anybody that’s there first gets 
the biggest wish. You come along with me, 
and I’ll show you the way.’’ 

Gyp hobbled after him to the best of his 
ability. Sometimes the dwarf forgot his com- 
143 


The Children of the Shoe 


panion and went at such a pace that he dis- 
appeared in the distance and Gyp completely 
lost sight of him; then back he would come 
in his great boots, apologizing for his thought- 
lessness. 

And as he went, Gyp wondered what his 
wish should be, and what the Winter Palace 
would be like, and all kinds of wonderful 
visions rose before him. But none were half 
so beautiful as the reality. 

In the distance he saw a great arch of 
light gleaming against the sky. Dusk had 
fallen, and the stars bespangled the sky with 
flecks of gold. The Ice Palace shone like 
silver, and Gyp was half afraid to venture in 
at the wonderful gateway; but no one was 
there to say him nay, and when he turned to 
speak the dwarf had disappeared. Once in- 
side the gateway. Gyp lost his fears. There 
was so much to look at! 

144 


The Winter Palace 


In the center of the courtyard stood a 
great fir tree, its branches tipped with hoar- 
frost that gleamed like diamonds in the keen 
air. On every green twig was an icicle of 
fantastic shape, and colored candles in frosted 
silver candlesticks stood among the branches. 

But none of the candles were alight. In 
and out of the doorways darted little elves 
carrying toys to hang upon the tree, until the 
branches were weighted down with trumpets 
and drums, and dolls, and boxes of crackers 
and bon-bons, and oranges and figs, and every 
imaginable thing Father Christmas could 
think of for his boys and girls. And all the 
little elves looked kindly at Gyp as he stood 
there leaning upon his crutches in the great 
courtyard, wondering at all the treasures dis- 
played. 

Then, when the tree could hold no more, 
the doors of the Ice Palace were flung open, 
10 145 


The Children of the Shoe 


and all the windows were illuminated as if 
by a magician’s wand. The fountains gleamed 
rosily and whirled delicate wreaths of spray 
far into the night, while from the distance 
came the chiming of Christmas bells on the 
frosty air. The elves had disappeared; Gyp 
stood alone, looking up at the wonderful tree. 
Only the splashing of the water in the foun- 
tains broke the silence now, for even the 
chiming of the bells had died away. 

Gyp held his breath and felt half afraid 
of the silence. He had forgotten it was Wish 
Night at the Winter Palace; he had forgotten 
everything but the wonderful surroundings 
and the great fir tree tipped with silver. Then, 
just as he began to wonder when the candles 
would be illuminated, the people began to 
arrive. In they came, hurrying and scurry- 
ing, lest they should be too late to gain their 
wishes. They were all so eager for a front 
146 


The Winter Palace 


place that Gyp found himself pushed away 
into a distant corner, where he could see noth- 
ing but the very topmost branch of the fir 
tree. At the very top was a great star, which 
seemed to twinkle towards him as if to say, 
‘‘They’re a rough lot, to be sure; but I 
shan’t forget you’re there!” 

And Gyp straightened himself on his one 
crutch — for the other had been trodden down 
in the rush — and took comfort. 

He stood patiently in his corner near one 
of the tall ice columns, wishing that he could 
have seen the candles lighted on the fir tree. 
Then suddenly the star twinkled more than 
ever, and the crowd fell back on either side, 
and he saw coming towards him an old man 
in a brown robe with a long white beard and 
very bright eyes that twinkled in as friendly 
a manner as the star. Gyp dropped his crutch 
and held out his hands appealingly. The 
147 


The Children of the Shoe 


lights danced before his eyes, and he saw the 
kind face of Father Christmas in a mist. 

Father Christmas smiled, and, lifting him 
up in his arms, carried him to where the 
King and Queen sat on a raised dais before 
the tree. 

The Queen smiled and made room for Gyp 
beside her, and held his hand, and Gyp saw 
that he was in time after all, for not one of 
the candles was alight. 

Then Father Christmas waved his wand 
and the wick of every candle caught fire and 
burned with a steady, clear light until the 
tree was ablaze. 

Little Gyp clapped his hands, and every- 
body grew wild with excitement. Then Father 
Christmas himself distributed the gifts, and 
those beyond his reach, right up at the top- 
most branches, the elves climbed for and gave 
to him. There were enough and to spare for 
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The Winter Palace 


every one three times over. No discontented 
faces were to be seen; all was fun and good- 
will, and most of them found their wishes 
gratified. 

Then the Queen took Gyp’s hand in hers. 

“You were here first, little Gyp,’’ she 
said, “what is your wish?’’ 

The King and Queen, and Father Christ- 
mas and the retinue, waited to hear what 
Gyp would say. He was very happy, but as 
he looked at the children running and playing 
about, his eyes grew wistful and he hesitated. 

“It is such a very big wish,’’ he said. 

“Never mind the size of it,” said Father 
Christmas, briskly; “tell us what it is.” 

But still Gyp hesitated. The Queen 
stroked his hair gently. 

“Is it anything to do with this?” she 
asked, stooping and touching very gently 
Gyp’s shabby little shoe with her .jeweled hand. 
151 


The Children of the Shoe 


Gyp nodded bravely, though his blue eyes 
were clouded. 

‘‘Yes,” he said. “Oh, Your Majesty, if I 
could only run about and play, and never, 
never use my crutches again!” 

A sob escaped him, and again the Queen 
stroked his hair; she was glad that it was 
Wish Night at the Winter Palace. 

“No tears, if you please , said Father 
Christmas, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, 
and with his wand he pointed upwards to the 
summit of the fir tree, where the great star 
blazed steadily. “Bless me! there’s another 
present left hanging up there; I thought the 
star looked knowing. Up with you, elves, and 
fetch it to me; I must see for whom it is 
ticketed.” 

Two or three of the merry elves climbed 
the tree, racing to see who could reach the 
summit first. ,Up they went, from one spread- 
152 


The Winter Palace 


ing green branch to another, until the fore- 
most elf reached the highest branch of all, 
close beside the star. 

Then she clambered down again and 
danced up to Father Christmas with the 
present in her hand. 

Father Christmas took it from her and 
then, amidst deep silence, read the label. 

“A present for Gyp,” he said, and Gyp 
saw that he held in his hand a little pair of 
brown leather shoes. 

A murmur arose from the crowd. 

'‘The Magic Shoes,” they whispered. “He 
has the best wish of all; then he was here 
first.” 

They all watched while Father Christmas 
put the shoes on Gyp’s feet. They fitted 
perfectly; but Gyp still sat there, not com- 
prehending what it meant. 

The Queen rose with a smile and held 

153 


The Children of the Shoe 


out her hand; but still Gyp did not under- 
stand. Suddenly the dwarf capered out from 
a doorway near and flourished his basting 
spoon above his head. 

“Ha! ha! ha!’’ he said, taking wild leaps 
into the air. “Come along! You’ll be able 
to keep pace with me now.” 

And, taking Gyp by the hand, he capered 
up and down the Great Hall, while the crowd 
looked on and applauded until the din was 
deafening. The candles burnt with a steady 
flame, the star at the summit of the fir tree 
shone with all its might. No one envied little 
Gyp his good fortune. For, after all. Wish 
Night at the Winter Palace came only once 
a year, and to-night Peace and Good-will 
and Happiness reigned in every heart. 


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SEP 13 1918 











